For an instant all seemed paralyzed with horror, and no one moved.
Chutney was the first to recover himself.
"We must kill him before he reaches the island," he cried, staggering back a pace or two. "Get the guns. Quick! quick! or it will be too late!"
He turned to flee across the island toward the canoe, but as he gained the ridge a cry of horror broke from his lips, and as his companions hurriedly reached the spot a single glance showed them what was the matter.
The canoe was no longer on the shore. The swell caused by the approach of the serpent had washed it from its slight support, and now it was twenty yards distant, and drifting farther and farther away with every second.
"The guns! The guns!" shrieked Chutney. "They are all in the boat. We are left at the mercy of the serpent. Sir Arthur! Sir Arthur!" he shouted with all his might, but no response came from the sleeping man, and the canoe continued to recede into the gloom.
At this terrible moment it was Forbes who brought a ray of hope into their despair.
Springing forward he snatched up an armful of the native weapons, spears, and axes, and distributed them to his companions.
"We must fight the monster with these," he cried; "and while we are keeping him off, you, Canaris, run to the shore and keep on shouting to Sir Arthur. He may wake and get here in time to save us yet."
"He must be in a faint," exclaimed the colonel, "or the noise would surely have wakened him. Come on, Chutney, the serpent is halfway to the shore. We may keep him off with these arms."